


Little Talks

by tarquin



Category: Homestuck, Rooster Teeth Productions RPF
Genre: F/M, Homestuck - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-20
Updated: 2016-05-10
Packaged: 2017-11-29 22:25:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/692175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tarquin/pseuds/tarquin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray's dream-self died a little while ago, and now he finds himself asleep and chatting it up with some friends on a mission.</p><p> <br/>{RTStuck AU}</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

You’re typing and you’re scared.

Chaos screams at you from every direction and it’s hard to focus on any one thing. On your screen twin messages from Geoff and Gavin tell you to hurry, to prototype, to get in. Your headset is currently ruled over by Michael, who is lambasting you for having such a small apartment because now he has no room to place to cruxdeter.

Normally you’d quip something back about getting on that, about how next time you’ll make room for the reality altering video game you just began playing, but your throat is dry and you’re too focused on telling Geoff that he was wrong, that equipping Rosekind was a stupid decision that you regret immediately.

Discord at its finest.

In the next second though, you’re somehow prepared for the couch next to you being plucked from its place on the wall and tossed against the other end of the room. How your body knows to flinch, or why it expects the loud thud of the final item hitting your floor is beyond you. It doesn’t really matter right now anyway, not with a meteor on course to your room and the world screaming at you to get moving.

“Go, Ray! Move, move move!” Michael’s voice echoes inside your head as you turn, readying yourself to pry the machine open like the others have done, to follow their orders and, hopefully, not get killed on meteoric impact.

You move to get up, to get to work, and there’s someone watching you.

You freeze or time freezes, it’s hard to tell. There’s someone standing in the corner of your room next to the ditched couch, tall and gangly with pale gray skin and wideset orange and yellow horns on their head. They don’t appear affected at all by the world crumbling around you, quite the opposite in fact. The face of the troll –how do you know that word? Troll? You’re not sure- is calm and curious, though alarm spikes its posture once it sees you’ve seen it. 

A cold chill runs up your spine at the sight of its –his- eyes, white like blank paper. They stare at you with a question in their opaque depths but you can’t make yourself ask it. Not when you’re as preoccupied as you are with another thought that’s nagging your mind.

This isn’t how it was the first time.

Wait, first time?

“Oh.” Says the troll boy standing in your apartment. A small green blush crosses his face and if you weren’t facing immediate annihilation via meteorite, you might make fun of him for it. But as of now you’re just sort of staring because, what?

“Gavin?” You ask, though, like most of this situation you can’t fathom why you know his name. You know it’s him immediately though, by the rotund nature of his horns and the green insignia on his shirt. Geoff’s horns are longer, and cracked with age.

You don’t even take a moment to process why you know that. It’s becoming redundant enough as it is.

“Hey Ray.” The troll boy says, his eyes not leaving yours. The whiteness of them makes your skin crawl and you turn to look round you, see what else is wrong, and your blood chills in your veins as you realize you’re not even in your own damn apartment anymore.

Well you are, kind of. There’s still a meteor visible outside your window, though it’s not moving closer like it had been before. Your computer is still blowing up with messages and there’s an angry voice spouting from your headset, but everything is blurry and detached, like it’s fading away. You turn back and there’s a visible smirk on Gavin’s face now, and you exhale the breath you hadn’t known you’d been holding.

“So, you wanna tell me what’s going on here?”

Gavin chuckles at this and the world around you shifts further, lines of your walls blurring into woodland. 

“You don’t know?” Gavin asks. You shake your head as the carpet underfoot turns to grass. You almost feel like throwing your arms up and sighing “Okay,” at this too, but instead you put a hand out to the boy who is walking towards you.

“Seriously, what the hell?”

Gavin reaches you and crosses his arms, looking perplexed.

“I guess it makes sense the alive ones wouldn’t know what’s going on.” He says and then a second later he uncrosses his arms, hesitating before he drops a hand on your shoulder. “You’re dreaming, Ray.”

And that makes sense a little, you think. 

Kind of. 

Maybe? 

The fact that the world around you isn’t real seems to set the earth harder under your feet at least. You like that you no longer have to panic about the end of the world.  
You start to wonder where exactly you are now, considering the apocalypse has come to an abrupt end, and it occurs to you that Gavin’s planet is called LOSLAT, Land of Slow Lines and Trees. Judging from the forest around you, you’re in the “trees” part.

Still, Gavin is staring at you with that too-serious expression and you tense under it. There’s stuff he’s not telling you and you don’t appreciate it, almost as you don’t appreciate him invading your precious sleep time. Which by the way, still doesn’t make all that much sense to you. You decide to let him keep his secrets for now, instead taking in all of LOSLAT before facing the troll.

“So, reliving entering the game, that was all..?”

“Dream bubble shenanigans.” He answers. “Usually these things start off by reliving a memory, after all. You know, we really have you to thank for that, Ray.”

You stop him before he can make your head spin faster than it already is.

“Okay. Let’s not draw this out. Gavin. What’s a dream bubble?”

“You really don’t know anything?” He asks, amused.

“If I did, would I be asking you?” 

Gavin scoffs at your burn and you celebrate it triumphantly as he rubs a hand over the back of his neck. Finally he shrugs and turns away.

“Walk with me.” The troll boy says, and turns away from what had once been your living room. A second later you look around and realize you have no other choice, jogging to catch up with him as he makes his way through the woods.

“So I’m dreaming right now.” You say. “I’m dreaming of you? Why would I do that?.”

You’re about to add more, something about how this is in no way going to become a sex dream, when those white eyes turn and stare into yours.

“Have you died recently, Ray?”

“What.”

“Like in combat, or maybe your dream self on derse?”

Now that he mentions it, you think back to what you’ve been hearing from your friend who dreams on the gold city, something about the prince being dead. The Prince being you of course, once you find that bed that Geoff and alive Gavin are always going on about. Still, it’s true that your dream self has had a recent run in with a knife and, if sources are to be believed, it did not end well.

“Yeah,” You reply after a pause. “Some derse agent asshole with a beard stuck me. But how do-“

“Dream bubbles.” Gavin says with a wave of his hand. “When you no longer have a dream self, or your dream self becomes your primary self, you start to dream in the bubbles whispered from the horrorterrors.”

“Hor-“

“Beaked tentacle monster things.”

“Ah.” You reply. Gavin’s being flippant about this, almost as though he’s had to explain it before. You still have a lot of questions for this troll kid copy of one of your co-players, and you’re half relived he looks as run down and bored with his explanations as he does. It makes it easier to go on with you inquiries.

“So am I dreaming about you, or?”

“Nope. I am dead.” He replies. Again, his tone is flat and he hardly seems to notice what he’s told you as he ducks under a branch. When you don’t respond immediately he turns to survey your reaction, lips curling.

“What, no YOLO joke?” He asks. 

“I was more going to go with a WELP.“

He chuckles. “Well, that works too. But yeah, I’m from an offset session of yours that failed. We died and our memories are preserved here in these bubbles. Sometimes they cross paths with other bubbles, like yours, and we can communicate through them.”

You nod, taking it all in as much as you can. After a second there comes a silence that stretches between you, and the only sound is that of underbrush cracking underfoot. It’s then that you realize he’s not so much walking calmly through a woods with you at his side, and rather that he’s actually leading you somewhere.

“So what’s, what’s going on here?” You ask.

He looks at you, smiling. Not in the violent kind that, at one point in another life, might mean that he’s rigged your digital home with dynamite or he’s got a fake pistol aimed at your back, but a kind one. An almost tired one, and one that makes you uneasy even though you figure you’re not being led to danger.

“I’m just…fulfilling a promise to a friend, that’s all.”

“That’s not fucking ominous.”

“You’ll see soon. But listen, I’ve just remembered, have you seen Lindsay around anywhere?”

The question comes out of thin air and you’re almost taken aback as he asks you this. His opaque eyes are serious as they watch you, and you almost feel kind of bad when your only option is to shrug and shake your head.

“Not really? Last time I saw her she was hanging with Michael in the living world.”

“Lindsaysprite?”

“Lindsaysprite.”

“Okay.” He says, suddenly looking even more deflated. “Listen, there’s something I need to tell you before we go any further, and it’s important. So,”

It’s then that a branch snaps less than three feet away from where you’re both standing, and you jump and he reaches for his sylladex. You’re both tense for the few seconds it takes the unknown presence to reach you, but you exchange dual exhales when a tangle of auburn hair and thin framed glasses emerges from the underbrush, cursing all the while.

“Fucking weeds, almost worse than the slow fucking lines. Your planet sucks, Gavin.”

The voice is unmistakable. Attached to the human making his way through weeds you feel yourself light up, relieved to be in more familiar company. Your mouth almost has the word “Michael” out, before the boy in front of you tips up his head and you see his eyes are just as dead and empty as Gavin’s. You don’t so much as try to make it look like your stomach’s just dropped into your lower intestine, but you don’t have much time to react at all anyway.

“There you are, Michael!” Gavin exclaims, and your dream neck nearly snaps as you turn your head to the sound of the troll boy’s voice. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere, I thought you’d wandered off.”

“Nope.” Comes a defeated voice. “Just getting pissed off as ever in this damn wasteland.”

“Aw, you’ll be okay, c’mere.”

And for a second it’s like your eyes are seeing something and you’re registering what’s going on, but it’s so far removed from plausible reality that you feel like you’re being tricked. 

Michael, who you assume has yet to see you or your living eyes, smiles at Gavin warmly, moving closer to him until he’s bracing himself against the boy’s shoulder. Gavin accepts this, snaking an arm around his waist and squeezing softly, muttering something to continue their conversation, though you’re not sure if it’s actually words.

No one trades blows, there’s no squirming or discomfort, absolutely no one says no homo. You feel like you’re watching a parody of your friends as Gavin holds Michael close for a heartbeat or two before letting go. Then they seem to remember they have company then, their dead eyes meet your wide ones.

“Look who I ran into.” Gavin says in a voice that is way too temperate and soft. Michael doesn’t miss a beat as he realizes who he’s in the presence of, peeling off of Gavin as easily as he’d slid on as he greets you.

“Holy shit!” He says, running a hand through his hair. “If it isn’t Alpha Ray himself, alive and kicking.”

“Apparently.” You reply, still a little stunned. Michael doesn’t give you a second to feel awkward about it though, before he’s fist bumping you and congratulating you on being alive.

“We’ve been through like a thousand dream bubbles and we never cross paths with the living. Fucking finally.”

“Yeah.” You say shortly. Michael is starting to notice your hesitance now, and he deflates a little.

“What’s the matter?”

“This is his first dream bubble.” Gavin chimes in. You figure this answer is better than ‘You two should have beat the shit out of each other by now’ and you nod at that.

“No shit.” Michael hums, “Well congratulations on the first of many.”

You thank him as Gavin continues on. “Yeah, I’ve been giving him the run around on how things work around here. I figured he’d want to meet a ghost Michael and I know you’ve been curious about your alive counterparts.”

Michael smiles, again with that smile, Jesus, and he’s about to say something else to you when you remember something from ten seconds ago.

“Hey, Michael. Gavin was looking for Lindsay a few minutes ago, any idea where she’s at?”

And in the span of a heartbeat you see your friend break.

The soft smile he’d been wearing freezes in place, and you swear you can see it splinter as his eyeybrows jump. His skin takes on a cold pallor and his mouth unhinges, the hand on your shoulder curling into a fist. You can’t tell if he’s angry or sad or scared, but you know it’s time to take a step backward when his hand drops, and you remember telling him that equipping the Master Sword (or, as it was accepted, swordkind,) had been a kickass idea.

“No.” he says, his voice sour, “I haven’t.”

And before the dead dream alternate version of your friend can lance through you with a sword, you watch Gavin get between you, watch his hand stop Michael’s, watch his eyes narrow at you as his other hand steadies Michael’s chest and pats in a repetition of threes.

“Did you have to ask that.” Gavin mutters, then turns and whispers into Michael’s ear. The boy deflates, still glaring at you, but no longer looking like he wants to kill your dream ghost. “Out of all the damn things you could have asked, you had to bring up her.”

You sputter. You look left and right and blink fervently in a half serious attempt to wake yourself up, but all you see is Michael breathe in and out over and over again until he moves in to rest his forehead rests on Gavin’s shoulder and he’s not shaking anymore.

In a word, you are confused.

After Gavin peels Michael off of him and the boy moves to sit down nearbye, you take a second to scratch lazily at your arm before you exhale. Then, when Gavin offers nothing more than a blank (literally,) stare you ask,

“So… What just…What is, why,”

“You shouldn’t mention her around him.” Gavin answers, just as Michael snaps “She’s dead.” These answers don’t conflict, but you still find yourself surprised, looking between them for more than a little detail. Michael’s offering little more than folded arms and a far away look on his face, so Gavin takes a breath and moves in. Just these motions tell you he’s familiar with them, and that unsettles you more.

“Hey, love?” Gavin asks, and while you shouldn’t be surprised at Michael looking up at him without hesitation you totally are, “We’re going to go have a chat…somewhere else. Is that fine with you?”

Michael responds by giving you the finger and then returning to playing with the edge of his cape. Gavin nods.

“Alright Ray, come with me please.”

He tries to keep a cheerful edge in his voice. Michael scoffs as he hears it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol in all honesty I never planned to finish this, it was an idea I ran out of steam for in like 2013 and sat 90% finished in my documents forever. then homestuck ended and I went back through all my old nonsense and found it again and well, here I am. Most of this was already written in 2013 and just needed cleaning up, and now that it's clean, I figure I might as well provide some closure. Hope you enjoy~

Gavin leads you back into the thick of the woods, taking several breaths along the way as though to begin a sentence, but then slowly letting the air out instead. Finally, when he decides the two of you are far enough away, or he's just gathered the gall, he stops and sits on an old felled tree. He motions for you to join him, and you do.

He looks tired.

“So... what’s his problem?” You ask, trusting you’re far enough out of earshot to ask. Gavin scratches absentmindedly at his arm before letting out a puff of breath. He’s not trying to meet your eyes and it’s off-putting, though neither more or less than the rest of this situation.

“Michael’s very unstable, right now.” He says. “I don’t know how much you know about troll society in your session or our kinds of romance but, do you know what a moirail is?”

Gavin, your Gavin, has told you enough about his weird alien dating stuff to make you nod, remembering his harried explanations of spades and diamonds and hearts. When dream Gavin sees this he relaxes a little, as though he’d been nervous about explaining it all.

Because the rest of this situation has made so much sense.

“Good. Then you know it’s a moirail’s job to support their partner. To keep them in their right mind, and help them if they become a danger to themselves or others.”

“Are you telling me you’re Michael's, like, diamond-guy?” You ask, distinctly remembering hearing the alive Michael touting Gavin and Geoff’s weird, alien romances.

“I am.” And he’s blushing green again. It’s almost sweet. “During the doomed session, too much happened. Too many losses too fast and it all came crumbling down and Michael…broke.”

“He broke.”

“Does the phrase “a wholly realized rage player” hold any weight to you?”

“Not particularly.”

“Be happy about that. Because I learned what it meant. I learned it after the burning, after the visions, after we lost. When I found Michael, stranded and alone in a dream at the corner of existence and he tried to put a sword through me, I learned exactly what it meant.”

You’ve never seen Gavin like this. Since the beginning of the game you’ve seen him happy and scared and enraged and in utter despair, but never as deep as this. Never before in your life have you seen someone who looks so weary and broken, and you put up your hands in a half hearted attempt to stop him from going any deeper.

“Okay. Okay, you’re Michael’s boyfriend. That’s cool, same love.”

Gavin blinks, once, twice, and he looks as though he’s coming back to himself. A little more life fills him as he breathes out a shaky chuckle and meets your eyes with an apology.

“Hah. Got a little ahead of myself just there.”

“Just a little.” You laugh.

“But it’s important for you to know, Ray." He carries on, "You have the distinct advantage of being alive right now, so who knows, maybe some of this can help you. Or at least it's a cautionary tale.”

“Fair enough.” You say wary, with a shrug. Staring at your dead ghost friend like this, you can at least take solace in knowing that you know the ending of his story. “Fill me in, but without all the vague, creepy prophetic stuff, okay? What made you guys turn into a doomed session?”

Gavin opens his mouth, he’s obviously said this enough times to enough ghosts to have it down to a script. But neither of you are ready for Michael’s voice, cold and sharp, to cut him off.

“Lindsay.” He says. “The seer, the doom player. She wasn’t supposed to be there, I was supposed to prototype her, and I didn’t. I didn’t, and we failed.”

Gavin’s on his feet in seconds, his worry spking the air. But Michael gives him a tired and dismissive wave and they exchange nods, and Gavin settles back down next to you, beckoning the boy over.

“Are you sure you can handle this, Michael?” He asks. To the best of his ability Michael rolls his eyes, walking until he’s reached Gavin, then settling down on the earth with his back to the log, between Gavin’s legs. This of course strikes you as odd as well, that Michael wouldn’t go for the easy crotch punch even at a time like this, but you guess that’s just part of the alien romance thing.

Gavin puts a hand on Michael’s shoulder and squeezes.

“Alright. But you know if you so much as reach for that sword that I’m going to have to manipulate you into a time vortex again.”

“I am aware, Gavin.” Then he turns to you, “Hey Ray.”

“Hey.”

No one says anything for a moment, Michael shuffles to get more comfortable and Gavin takes his hand back, clasping his fingers nervously. When you don’t make any attempt to pull the conversation on any further Michael turns, snapping at Gavin.

“Well? Fuckin go!”

Gavin blinks at him, unfazed, before nodding. His once distracted hand reattaches itself to Michael, to support the boy or himself, and he opens his mouth.

“Before we entered the game, when I used to dream on Prospit and read the clouds, I saw our session containing the four heroes. Time, Void, Space and Rage. The Mage, the Prince, the Bard and the Knight. I knew that when they were successfully united, they would become all-powerful and amazing gods. Which, by the way, good for you, Ray."

Ray shrugs. "Thanks."

"No problem. But the problem was... our session had an accidental fifth player.”

“The seer.” Michael says, voice low.

Gavin nods his head.

“But we didn’t know she was a seer until much, much later. In fact, none of us knew our session was bollocks until she did. Seer of Doom, and all that.”

Michael’s breathing picks up pace, you watch Gavin’s grip tighten. Already you don’t like the direction this is taking.

“For the longest time we did great, all of us.” Gavin picks up again. “We upgraded our weapons we fought monsters, we solved puzzles, we collected rewards until we were rich. Even Lindsay! I mean, yeah she shared a planet with Michael and her quest bed had to be summoned in through void powers and she never prototyped a kernelsp- Okay some things were off. But we never thought,”

“We still thought we were going to win.” Michael says, voice hollow. “We were sure of it. And that’s when she started having the fucking visions.”

You wonder if you can get them to stop here, because your skin is crawling and they both look so mad that leaving is the most tempting option in front of you right now. Not that you don’t appreciate the story, but it’s kind of definitely going to give you nightmares for the rest of your life. That is, if you ever dream again.

“Okay, okay, stop.” You breathe. Your chest is tight, they fall silent. “I get it, okay? You guys lost, you died. I’m sorry, seriously. But,”

“The story’s almost over.” Michael sighs.

“No, I’m pretty sure I get the end of the story, because I’m sitting here chatting it up with ghosts.” You don’t mean to lash out but this is just. So much.

“Well _obviously_ you don’t know shit,” Michael’s voice is rising. Gavin is watching, attentive. You realize now that you may have fucked up.

“Because we didn’t get to the part where we fought for months in a dead session, or where Geoff’s consorts turned on him and ripped him to shreds. Or where Gavin died alone, screaming for someone to help him in the middle of assfuck nowhere. You certainly didn’t hear about how you died in the middle of battle, and how Lindsay and I were the last ones left. 

And something you probably don’t know about God tiers, Ray? They’re immortal. They can only die if their deaths are ruled honorable or just. And so when we went to the denizen of my planet to beg for help, when it decided to rip her apart instead and I pushed her out of the way, that’s what the universe judged as honorable. Me dying, leaving her alone, to suffer for God knows how long, until she was the last one to go. Did you know all of that, Ray?”

He’s standing now, and his clothes grow steadily redder as he shouts. Blood seeps from his neck and his belly and wounds on his face. He’s remembering dying, reliving it, and you don’t see the sword in his hand until he’s got it aimed at you. In the time it takes your eyes to widen and a shout to break from your throat Gavin’s pounced. He doesn’t touch the boy but warm red light emanates from his fingers and Michael’s body slows, though his eyes thrash wildly between you and the troll.

Michael’s chest is heaving and he looks like he wants to scream but Gavin has him slowed. And after he pries the sword from Michael’s stiff fingers and tosses it to the ground he moves in. You’ve never seen your Gavin do this, and you’re not sure what’s more strange. The way he whispers and pats the physical anger out of Michael, or the fact that Gavin is focused and calm, and looks happy as Michael’s body starts to sway.

The weight of him crashes into Gavin a second later, and his eyes shut as Gavin helps him sit, leaning him against the log.

“I knew you couldn’t handle it you lemon.” He says, but his voice is gentle in a way you haven’t heard before.

It’s pretty damn gay.

When Michael no longer looks like he wants to tear you to shreds and the remnants of his death subside, he stops bleeding, he stops shaking, Gavin faces you again. He looks apologetic. It’s a strange fit for him.

“After we all died we lost each other in the nothingness, but Michael and I found each other. He was… like this, when I found him.”

Michael humphs on the ground.

“But luckily for him, paler feelings prevailed, and I was able to calm him down. Though, most of it was because of a promise I made him. And more than half the reason we told you all of this in the first place.” 

“Well I’m all fuckin’ ears.” You huff. You feel sick to your stomach and are still reeling from almost being dream murdered by your friend-ghost, but you’ve come this far, so.

“We’re trying to find her.” Michael says, propping his arms up on his knees. He’s a sadder sight when he’s all curled up like that, hard to believe he’d been death personified a minute ago. Now he mostly just looks as tired as Gavin does. “We fucked up by cheating her into the game but it still treated her like a player. She still _ascended_. So she has a dream self. But it’s not easy. There’s so many fuckin offshoot bullshit timelines to float through, so much weird shit you end up seeing, all I want to do is fucking rest in peace!”

Gavin’s hand is on his shoulder again, squeezing softly. There’s no fear in the troll’s posture, only comfort, only kindness. In return Michael clenches the fabric of his pajamas in his fingers for a moment as he composes himself.

“But she’s out there. Somewhere.” He says, finally.

“A million billion dream bubbles out there in paradox space,” Gavin hums. “And one little Lindsay.”

For some reason just then, you find that you feel very, very small.

“But I mean, we got fuckall else to do.” Michael says. He’s got a little of his punch back, his vulnerability safely shrouded. “So to keep me from going batshit, Gavin and I are gonna go through every single one until I find my goddamn wife and hopefully some peace.”

“Damn, that’s a noble quest.” You say. “If we weren’t, the alive versions of you I mean, shit that sounded, fuck it you know what never mind. What I’m trying to say is, I wish I could help you out, that sucks.”

“Nah, Ray.” Michael says, shrugging it off. “I think you’ve got enough on your plate as is. Y’know, belonging to the main, alpha timeline that’s going to win the game and fulfill your destiny and all.”

You scoff. “Just wanted to play a fucking video game, goddamn.”

“I know, right!” Michael exclaims, and it makes you laugh and feel queasy at the same time with the level of agreement you both share. But you roll with it, snort, and get to your feet.

“Speaking of, I guess I should be heading back there.” You look up, and through the tall trees you only see darkness, a deep and never ending nothing. You could use some sky.

“Aww, you get bored of your ghost friends, Ray?” Gavin asks cheekily. “Impatient to get back to your living ones?” He gets up after you and Michael follows, hot on his trail.

“Wow, asshole.” Michael bites. You look back at them and if everything was just a _little_ different, they could be so familiar. 

“ _I’m_ the asshole?” Gavin gasps. “You were the one tryin’ to impale him a minute ago!”

“Yeah of course I was, I was reliving my death you dick!”

“Excuses.”

“WHAT.”

“Gentlemen!” You say finally, laughing as you do so. Both ghosts break off from their argument to give you their attention. “You can fight over me after I’m gone, but in the meantime, you got any idea how to get back to the land of the living? Pun intended.”

Michael grins suddenly, not in a cruel way but a fully playful one. He looks over at Gavin who smirks, then gets to his feet. 

“I really only know one foolproof way.” He says. When he stops walking he’s edged a little too close to your personal bubble and looks concerningly smug. Michael notices your hesitation before Gavin does.

“Sorry, he’s right, it’s the only way.” Michael chimes in.

“So little of this is comfortable for me.”

“Nor should it be, Ray.”

Gavin’s taller than you but not by too much. Enough so that it’s sufficiently awkward when he places his hands on your shoulders. You grimace, think to argue, and then get bored of the idea all within a second. You look at Michael again instead.

“Hey man,” You say, meeting his eyes and speaking as sincerely as you can, “Good luck.”

Michael looks back at you. He’s so clearly beaten down and defeated and exhausted, but somehow when he grins a second later he still carries with him so much hope. He says, “Yeah. You too.”

Then Gavin gleefully squeezes your shoulders and you turn, squinting and expecting the feeling of cold, alien lips on yours.

“Later, Ray!”

Instead, you open your eyes a half-second before a troll forehead and a sharp pair of horns slam full force into your cranium. And before you can even shout ‘FUCK’ at the pain, you’re gasping awake in your bedroom in the Land of Bytes and Rose Petals. 

Getting your bearings, you remember that you’re on the bed that you’d passed out in a little while ago, after you’d raided for that grist hoard. Your mouth is dry and you’re too warm, the premium signs of a shitty nap. You rub at your eyes and slip on your glasses.

It feels like it’s been forever since you've been here.

Next to you on the coffee table the DSiPhone is going off like crazy, you can see notifications from everyone. When you flip the top open several messages scroll past but, as it is with these guys, most of its bullshit. Hilarious bullshit, but bullshit all the same. You scroll past three pages of nonsense about who can make the most disgusting weapon they can think of on a low-grist budget before finally you’re at the end. As you type, you let out a slow and even breath.

“Hey assholes, anyone else got dead dream selves? I’m on the lookout for someone.”


End file.
